


Please Wait and Make A Place For Me

by littlebitlostandfound



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebitlostandfound/pseuds/littlebitlostandfound
Summary: Cathy and Anne welcome their daughter into the world, but not without a few complications.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t hear her. I want to see her.” 

Cathy groans at the movement, attempting to prop herself up higher on the hospital bed. She looks down and sees her baby, her daughter, being cleaned up by the doctors. She hears snippets of whispers, all of them carrying the notion that there was something wrong. 

Her ears pick up a few words— _barely breathing, ICU, lungs not yet developed_ —and her mind instantly expects the worse. Her hands ache to hold her close, her baby must feel cold after being inside her for so long. 

Not long enough, apparently. She came a month early. 

Cathy leans back against the bed, forcing herself to stay awake but the medication was strong, and she was so, so tired. She turned to the nurse beside her who was urging her to fall asleep. 

“I want to hold her, please,” Cathy pleads in a hoarse whisper, and the nurse could only tuck her sweat matted hair behind her ear. 

“Just a minute, love,” The nurse replies as warmly as she can, her eyes darting to the doctors trying their best to puff air into her daughters’ tiny lungs, and then she hears it—a faint, sputtering cry. 

“Oh, thank God,” One of the doctors exhale loudly, carrying the impossibly tiny infant in her hands and quickly transferring her on Cathy’s chest. Her hands immediately come up to hold her, to shield her from the cold. 

“Hi, baby, oh, look at you,” Cathy cries, tears streaming down her face as she leans down to kiss the crown of her head. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

The doctors watch on vigilantly, monitoring the rise and fall of her breathing. They’d give her this, just a few more seconds, before they place her into intensive care. The nurse lets Cathy know, of course, and she gives her up almost immediately, not wanting to delay her daughter’s recovery. 

“You can see her again later, go get some rest,” The nurse urges her, and Cathy nods blearily, the exhaustion settling in her bones faster than she had anticipated. “She’s quite beautiful.” 

Cathy smiles before nodding off to sleep. 

She wakes up to a warm weight by her thigh. She wakes up to her wife hunched over the hospital bed, her hand clutching hers. Cathy hums, catching her attention. 

“You went into labor. You had our daughter and didn’t even mean to tell me.” Anne starts, understandably hurt. Cathy closes her eyes again. 

“I also didn’t know. I went in for a check up, then when I got here, I thought they were just Braxton-Hicks,” Cathy admits. “It all happened so fast, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect that she’d come so early.” 

Anne traces circles on Cathy’s hand with her thumb. “I still missed it. I should’ve gone with you on your check up. I never missed a single one, and the one time I do, you give birth.” 

Cathy laughs a bit, groaning slightly as her stomach pulls. 

“Why isn’t she here?” Anne wonders—it was rather strange, being in a maternity room with an empty bassinet. Cathy’s smile fades. 

“They brought her into intensive care. She came a month early, I didn’t hear her cry when she got out, I was so scared,” Cathy rambles, tears pricking at her eyes just remembering the fear that coursed through her. “She was so small, I held her for a few seconds and I barely felt any weight on my chest.” 

“Do you think we can visit her there?” Anne asks, and Cathy regards her for a moment before pressing a button to call the nurse. One comes in after a minute, slightly panicked but relaxes after seeing the pair serenely looking back. 

“Miss Parr, how are you feeling?” He asks, taking the clipboard by the foot of the hospital bed to write down updates. 

“Better. Can we visit our daughter?” Cathy cuts to the chase, and he says he’s have to double check. He leaves the room for a moment before coming back in with a wheelchair. 

“We’ll bring you both in, but you’ll have to wear scrubs. Safety precautions.” Anne and the nurse help Cathy out of the bed and into the wheelchair, and they skip the nursery, the long row of healthy babies, and going straight into the ICU.

Through the glass panel, they see an incubator with an impossibly tiny baby sleeping on her stomach with a million little wires attached to her body. 

“Baby Parr,” The card read. Anne couldn’t stop staring. 

“That’s her,” Cathy chokes up, absolutely hating the fact that she got to hold her before all of this and Anne’s first experience with their child had to be so sterile. “That’s our girl.” 

“That’s our girl,” Anne breathes, leaning down to kiss Cathy’s head. The nurse hands Anne scrubs and a hairnet, and leads the both of them to the washing area to disinfect their hands. 

“She’s got a breathing tube in, as well as a feeding tube, she’s rather small and her lungs aren’t fully developed yet, but she’s hanging on,” The nurse fills them in, and it stabs the both of them in the heart. “If you’re gentle, you can reach in and hold her hand.” 

Cathy lets Anne go first. She holds her breath as she reaches in—she wasn’t known for being gentle but by hell would she try for her—but wetness immediately flows down her cheeks as she runs her finger over the expanse of her daughter’s back. 

“Hello, darling, you just couldn’t wait for a little while longer, could you,” Anne laughs softly, moving her finger down to her arm now. “You were too excited to see your mamas.” 

“You’re a gorgeous little thing, baby girl,” Anne whispers, stroking her daughter’s thin, downy hair. “I can’t wait to hold you.” 

Cathy reaches out to hold Anne’s hand, squeezes it twice—a sorry, an I love you. 

A few more days pass, Cathy was discharged two days after her emergency delivery but comes back every day with Anne to visit their daughter. 

The doctors have told them that her lungs were failing her, that they were too weak to work on their own, that she might develop asthma in the long run. 

They hold on to the slim chance of survival. 

After two more weeks, the doctors take her out of the incubator. It’s the first time they catch their daughter awake on their visits and they can’t help but marvel. 

“We’re removing the breathing tube in a bit, would you like to hold her while we do?” The doctor in charge asks, and they eagerly agree, obviously taking every chance to come in contact with their girl.

The doctor briefs them about the benefits of kangaroo care, how it’s important that they do it as much as possible when they bring her home, and then asks which parent would like to hold her first. 

“I’ll go, if that’s alright,” Anne steps forward. Cathy doesn’t protest.

The doctor guides her to lean back against the seat, and asks her to unbutton her top and remove her bra, which she does without hesitation. In one quick motion, the doctor lays their diaper-clad daughter against the bare skin of her chest, and the world stops altogether. Her daughter feels almost weightless, but she grounds her in a way she couldn’t explain. 

Anne’s hands reach up to hold her, and her mind reels at the fact that her two hands can cover her whole body. Cathy burns the image of the two of them in her mind, not wanting to forget any second. 

The doctor walks over to them and gently shifts her so that she would be lying her back against her chest. 

“Alright, mum, we’re just removing the tube then she can go back to snuggling with you,” The doctor smiles, and counts to three before extracting the thin tube that was down her throat. The infant sputters a bit before letting out a soft but piercing cry. 

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to hear your voice, darling,” Anne coos, shifting her around to face her again. Their daughter wails against her skin, and Cathy reaches out to hold Anne’s hand over her back. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay.” 

Their daughter’s cries slowly fade into whimpers, and after a while, begins to root around. Anne chuckles slightly before looking up at Cathy. 

“I think this is more your department,” Anne smiles, and Cathy nods–she’s prepared herself for this moment. Anne stands up and lets Cathy take her place on the seat, letting her remove what she needs to before placing her in her arms. Cathy guides her gently and allows her to latch on, and she hears their daughter coo as she nurses. 

“You’ve been such a surprise, little one,” Cathy whispers, lightly tracing her finger from her forehead down to the tip of her nose. “But we wouldn’t change it for anything. We love you so, so much.” 

Anne takes a quick photo of the two of them, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand. 

This was her family, and she feels like the luckiest woman in the world. 


	2. There's A Room For The Elephants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathy and Anne prepare for their daughter's arrival. Prequel to Please Wait and Make A Place For Me.

“They’re so tiny.” 

Anne holds up a pair of crocheted baby booties. They were nesting, as people liked to call it, and it overwhelms them how small baby clothes actually were. 

“It really does surprise me that they make shoes for babies who can’t walk.” Cathy reasons, resting her hand on top of her expanded stomach. She was nearing eight months now, and they were already counting down the days to their baby’s arrival. “Why do we have them anyway?” 

“They were gifts, Cathy. I would never spend on anything as useless as baby shoes.” 

“You got her a giant giraffe for the nursery.” Cathy laughs, nodding her head to the side. The giraffe in question stands in the corner of the room, towering over the rocking chair.

“It’s aesthetic.” 

“Mmhmm,” Cathy hums, letting it rumble in her chest when she feels movement in her womb. “Baby seems to be on your side for this one.” 

“Are you alright?” Anne quickly scoots closer, settling the booties down. Cathy takes Anne’s hands and settles them on both sides of her lower abdomen. 

“Hold on,” Cathy stalls, tapping the top of her stomach. “Oh, don’t you get shy now.”

“What a tease,” Anne chuckles, gently lifting Cathy’s shirt up and rubbing her stomach with the pads of her thumbs. “Hey, darling. I love you.”

Anne’s breath catches when she feels a nudge against her hand, and then the faint outline of a foot near Cathy’s navel. She lets out a sharp huff of surprise. 

“I saw her foot,” Anne marvels, and Cathy rubs the area where she kicked, trying to soothe the discomfort. 

“Yeah, I felt that one,” Cathy laughs breathlessly. Anne lays on her stomach on the floor, propping her up by her elbows so she could be face to face with their unborn child. 

“Gentle, baby,” Anne whispers, pressing her lips against the top of Cathy’s abdomen. She keeps her hands by her sides, softly stroking the taut skin. “We don’t want to hurt Mama.” 

She feels a few more thumps and kicks, thankfully no more imprints. Anne whispers sweet nothings into her stomach, just as she does every night before they go to sleep, promising her the moon and the stars as soon as she’s born. 

“She’s always so active when you talk to her,” Cathy muses, her gaze filled with adoration for her wife in front of her. “She gets so excited.”

“Not as excited as I am, baby,” Anne smiles, tapping her side and feeling something, an elbow maybe, pressing against it. She feels her shift around again, and Cathy rubs the expanse of her stomach to calm her down. “I can’t wait to see you.” 

“Ooh, easy girl,” Cathy groans, trying her best to settle the thrumming sensation around her abdomen. It stretches and pulls and although she loves feeling the little life inside her, sometimes it gets a bit too much. 

“Shh, you’re okay, love,” Anne sits up immediately, feeling slightly guilty for riling up their daughter. “Breathe with me.” 

Anne places her hands on her arms, sliding them down to her hands. Cathy intertwines them, her eyes squeezing tight as she attempts to follow her partner’s lead.

“There we go, in and out,” Anne is patient with her. She places her hands back on Cathy’s abdomen, rubbing full circles on the sides of her stomach. She hums a familiar tune, a little lullaby, and the baby almost immediately stills. Cathy lets out a small chuckle. 

“You’re going to be so good with her,” Cathy smiles, leaning forward to press her lips against Anne’s. “She already adores you.” 

Anne only smiles, coming closer to kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips, then down to her stomach. She comes up again, her eyes bright, staring into Cathy’s. 

“Thank you,” Anne exhales. “For loving me, for carrying her. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” 

Cathy’s heart grips. She looks to the side, sees the baby booties Anne was holding up earlier, and it reminds her of the life they built, of the life they’re bringing in. She’s overwhelmed by her love, she feels flutters in her stomach. 

“Oh!” Cathy gasps—it’s a slightly foreign sensation. She’s felt thumps, kicks, and shifts, but never flutters, and it feels wonderful. Anne’s face paints a look of concern, but Cathy laughs, deep belly laughs that make her laugh too, and they end up laying on the floor, completely spent. 

Cathy rolls over to her side, facing her wife, the light of her life, and presses her forehead against hers. 

“I’m in this for the long run, okay?” 

Anne sees the fierce certainty in her eyes, and she hangs onto every word.

“Okay.” 


	3. Always/Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They take things one day at a time. Alternate/Extended ending to Please Wait and Make A Place For Me. 
> 
> TW: Hospitals, major character death.

After a few months of routine check ups and hospital visits, the doctors have confirmed that in addition to her weakened lungs, their daughter had a very delicate immune system due to her premature delivery and they’ve wasted no time in ensuring their home was as livable as possible.

“I really hope I don’t see this girl anytime soon,” the doctor jests, gently poking the little girl’s stomach. They’ve still got an appointment next month. “Just the usual, keep an eye out for any developmental delays, and nebulize regularly.”

“Thank you,” Anne smiles, gathering their girl up in her arms and nuzzling her nose against her cheek. “We’ll make sure.”

The doctor nods and smiles.

Another couple months have passed, and despite their constant encouragement, they’ve found it rather unsettling that their baby has yet to hit most of the markers she was supposed to be doing at her age. She couldn’t sit up without support and she had yet to focus her on eyes on either of them.

“She’s just a really quiet baby, and I’m sure she’ll come around,“ Cathy tries to convince Anne, even though she didn’t sound very sure herself. “Don’t worry, she’ll be crawling and babbling our ears off in no time.”

They’ve noticed that their daughter gets tired too easily, and her cries are always just above a whisper–they still haven’t moved the crib out of their room because they’re too scared the baby monitor might not pick up on her sounds.

But they take it one day at at time, and when she reaches her first birthday, Cathy and Anne could barely complain, especially when their girl stands up from her crib and wakes them with a soft but resounding, "Mama.”

Cathy’s eyes shoot open—their daughter’s voice was the most effective alarm. She picks her up from the crib and travels the short distance back to their bed, allowing their girl to settle in between them.

“Hi, baby, good morning,” Cathy whispers, kissing her forehead. She could count on her fingers the amount of times their daughter has addressed them verbally, and she makes sure to acknowledge her every time. "It’s your birthday today.”

Their girl, their little Mae, looks up at her with wide eyes before looking down and patting her chest. Shooting a quick glance at her sleeping partner, Cathy lifts her shirt up, allowing their daughter to latch on.

"Hmm, I thought we were weaning her,” Anne comments groggily, waking up from hearing the little hums and suckles from in between them. Cathy traces her finger along Mae’s hairline as she nurses.

“She wanted to, I figured I’d let today slide,” Cathy admits sheepishly. She loved feeling this close to their daughter and she was never one to pass up an opportunity. “We’ve had her for a year now, can you believe it?”

“I actually still can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s ours,” Anne smiles, scooting closer to Cathy to enclose their daughter in an embrace between them. “She’s just perfect.”

They lay in silence for a few more moments before Mae decided that she was done, and flips over to face Anne. Mae gives her the sweetest smile with her little baby teeth, and Anne melts right then and there, leaning down to pepper her face with kisses.

“Good morning, my love,” Anne smiles, holding her close against her chest. “Happy birthday.”

Taking into account their daughter’s health, they didn’t want to overwhelm or tire her out with a party so they settle with a quiet day in and celebrate with a few gifts and a small cake.

Two weeks later, they were back in the children’s clinic when Mae’s fever spikes. She’s already had of them throughout her short life, but it scares her mothers all the same. Since that moment, their monthly hospital trips have become more frequent, and they couldn’t handle the fact that their little girl might be sicker than they had realized.

Mae has gotten used to needles by the time she was a few months shy of two years old, and when she gets admitted in the middle of the night, she barely flinches at the IV being inserted.

The doctors tell them that night that Mae had one of the more serious cases of pneumonia, and given her age and medical history, they didn’t know if she’ll be able to make it.

“We’re doing our absolute best,” The doctors attempt reassure them, but they couldn’t fully comprehend the idea of them outliving their daughter. They keep a watchful eye on the monitors and the rise and fall of Mae’s chest, a solid reminder of their girl holding on for as long as she can.

Anne and Cathy don’t sleep the whole night, they needed to be awake when Mae comes around.

“We can’t lose her,” Cathy whispers from the cot next to the hospital bed, the beeping of the machines starting to become a sound of comfort. Anne sits next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pressing a fierce kiss against her forehead. She keeps the tears at bay.

“Our girl’s gonna get through this,” Anne speaks her affirmation out into the world, hoping the universe doesn’t let them down.

Mae flutters her eyes open the evening after, and her parents rush immediately to her side.

“Hi, baby,” Cathy starts, brushing the stray hairs away from her face. Anne stays on the other side of the hospital bed, holding her hand. “We’re so happy to see you awake.”

Mae looks up at her blearily, and opens and closes her hands, squeezing Anne’s in effect, silently telling them that she wanted to be held. Cathy and Anne manage to squeeze themselves on the hospital bed, with Mae draped over Cathy.

“Mama, beebee tired,” Mae whispers into her neck, her one hand reaching out to grasp Anne’s shirt. “Tired.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Cathy breathes, the tears flowing freely when she realizes that the steady beeping of the monitor was starting to slow down. “We’ve got you. Your mamas are right here, baby.”

“Mama,” Mae wheezes out, coughing into Cathy’s chest and clutching Anne’s shirt tightly. Anne shifts so that she’s on her side facing them, and places her hand on Mae’s back, stroking it gently.

“Shh, you’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” Anne soothes, reminding her of the time she first held her, and her heart grips, she had never thought that the last would come so soon. Cathy turns her head to the side and presses her lips against Anne’s cheek.

“We love you so much, baby girl,” Anne leans down to whisper into the crown of her head, keeping her lips close as she tells her that she hasn’t gotten the moon and the stars for her yet, that mama hasn’t flown into the sky and that she has to wait a little bit longer.

“Sleep?” Mae forces out, struggling to keep her eyes open. Cathy holds her tighter, and Anne cries into her shoulder, trying her best to keep her sobs as quiet as possible.

“It’s okay, baby,” Cathy’s voice trembles. She keeps her voice light through her tears. “You can sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Mae gives the both of them a tiny smile before snuggling against Cathy’s chest.

A few minutes later, Mae’s clutch on Anne’s shirt loosens, and a long beep fills the room.

Their world stands still.


End file.
